Roll with the Punches
by influenceONchildren
Summary: Jlaire Week 2018, Day 5 - Flour Part 1: Sad things can happen to good people. We can't always help it. Part 2: Because I'm not cruel, here's something happy.
1. Part 1

**Author stuff: Sorry about the little break. I'm back on the morning shift at work, but I'm starting to have a little more time as we're getting into what we in the hotel business call the "Slow Season." (Honestly, that just might be my work because we're surrounded by business buildings and we're about 30 miles away from Chicago. Hurk.)**

 **I'm writing several things, on top of posting my Jlaire Week stuff and a few one-shots on here. The few who follow me on my writing blog on tumblr (icy-writes) kind of get sneak peaks as far as the stories go. Anyone who follows me on my normal blog (icyandthefrostbites) gets dumped with trash. It's my trashblog. (Tons of fandom, animals, politics, and other such nonsense.) If you have any questions or anything, hit me up on either one of those. I usually respond within four hours max.**

 **ANYWAY!**

 **I could decide if I wanted to write sad or happy, so there's going to be two parts for this. So, you all get two for the price of none. Because this is fanfic. It's free.**

 **Sad is first.**

 **Day 5 - Flour**

* * *

 **Roll with the Punches, Pt. 1**

Their room was quiet. He would have said it was suspiciously quiet, but he didn't want to think that way. He didn't want to think about the possibility that she left him like his dad had. Or that she was taken from him again.

The knife was already twisting painfully in his gut when he couldn't hear her. He could smell her, though. She was all around.

"Claire," he said, tentatively. Trying to place her in the one room she was so very clearly evident in.

A half sob, half gasp came from the other side of their bed. There was scuttling too.

He poked his head around and saw her curled up in a ball, looking as though she was trying to melt into the floor.

"Hey, hey, hey," he said, vaulting over the mattress and landing softly in front of her. She shrunk down even more. "It's okay. It's just me."

That… That only made it worse.

"Claire…"

"I'm sorry," she said. "I was so sure but it… I… _ **Jim**_ …"

She held up a little white and pink stick that smelled of urine. A pregnancy test. A _**negative**_ pregnancy test.

"Claire," he said, pulling her into him. "It's okay. We weren't sure. We couldn't know for certain. Hey, shh…"

She gave a great sob into his chest.

"We always knew I'd be a bad parent. I can't even take care of a bag of flour, remember?"

She made a sound that sounded like a choking laugh.

"I…" she said, "I remember."

"We'll be okay. We'll be fine. We… We'll just adopt a bunch of gnomes, how does that sound, hm?"

"Terrible."


	2. Part 2

**Author stuff: I decided to do happy second because I can't make you guys sad for too long. (A day, because I forgot last night. Whoops.) I'm not that cruel. I mean, like, I'll cackle maniacally for a while but then I feel bad and bring you blankets and cookies.**

 **So, the happy part!**

 **Day 5 - Flour**

* * *

 **Roll with the Punches, Pt. 2**

He was starting to panic. She wasn't in their room. She actually wasn't in New TrollMarket at all, from what he could tell. He could smell her – most of it congregating their private little nook – but she wasn't in any of her usual haunts. This was causing his anxiety to spike and his mind to race.

He was about to burst out of their system of caves and into the human world when she reappeared. He practically tackled her.

"Are you okay?" he said, looking her over. Nothing appeared to have changed or altered her appearance. She smelled… relatively normal. He didn't smell any blood or any other injuries, couldn't see them. So she must be okay.

He took the bags she was carrying, paying very little attention to their contents. He figured they were her usual haul.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice light and full of bemusement. "Are _**you**_ okay? You look like someone electrocuted you. Again."

"I was worried when I couldn't find you."

"I had to go out for a few things. Had to get you a present."

"Present?" He looked at her incredulously, following her like some dutiful puppy back to their room. "It's not my birthday. It's… it's not Christmas or Easter, right?"

"No. I just felt like getting you something."

He looked down into the bags. There was, in fact, a wrapped box in one of them. It smelled vaguely familiar, though he wasn't exactly quite able to place it. Something powdery.

He set the bags down on their bed – a makeshift thing of various pillows and blankets scrounged from wherever they could be found – and waited for her.

She took her time before digging out the present from the one bag, putting other items away first. And she didn't hand it to him right away. She looked it over, patting the colorful foiled wrapping fondly. She gave a quiet sigh and offered it up to him.

"Here," she said.

He took it delicately from it, meeting her eyes to make sure that it was okay before tearing the paper – which he did with just as much care. He cut the strips of tape holding the paper together with the fine nails on his hands.

The paper covered a standard cardboard box, sealed again with tape. He looked up at her, raising his brow.

"Go on," she said, half laughing. She sat down on the bed next to the box, watching his face intently.

He opened the box, unsure of what to expect on the inside.

It was a bag of flour.

"Uh…" he said. "You want me to bake for you? Are you craving, like, some cake or, uh, bread or something?"

"Well," she said, pulling her knees up to her chest, "I'll definitely be having some cravings. I just don't know what they'll be yet."

He looked down at the bag of flour again. He… didn't get it. He looked back at her. She gave a scoff and rolled her eyes.

"Remember Petunia?"

"Petunia?"

"You sacrificed her to help defeat a gruesome?"

"Wait, our _**flour baby**_?"

"Yes!"

"What does out flour baby have to do with this?" He heft up the bag to show her.

"Jim," she said. "Flour. Baby. Think about it."

And he did.

"Oh," he said. "You… You're, uh, baby?"

He pointed to her stomach with wide eyes.

"Jeeze," she said. "Do you have rocks for brains?"


End file.
